Pedal to the Metal: Egyptian Fury
by Shantih
Summary: Drivers Ed: PSYCHO STYLE! Bakura got a delivery job, but unfortunately doesn't know how to drive. Wanting to preserve his own sanity, Ryou solicits Yami's help...CHAOS ENSUES! RyouxYami, maybe YamixBakura. Mwahahaha! Read/Review! ...language warning...
1. I don't have a cat

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, unfortunately. If I did, Bakura would have more screen time, Anzu would have less, Honda and Duke would be a couple, and there would be alcohol.

ENJOY!

Ω

"Look, I don't understand all the fuss. How hard can it be? You just get behind the wheel and go." The Tomb Robber crossed his arms and leaned against the refrigerator, staring at me like _I_ was the one who had something wrong with them. That was rich.

"Well, there's a bit more to it than that," I explained. "There _are_ rules, after all…"

"Since when have I cared about rules?"

That about did it.

"You're going to be using _MY_ driver's license!" I screamed at my Yami. "If you start going around killing innocent people because you ignore road signs, it's going to be MY ass because legally _you _don't exist!"

Ye gods. He actually looked taken aback. Well, it's not often I let myself get this pissed off.

"And _that_," I finished, panting, "Is why. The Pharaoh. Is going to teach you how to drive." I turned and began to walk out of the apartment.

"_Wait,"_ he screeched. "You never said anything about that. Weren't you going to teach me?"

"Yes," I retorted. "Up until five minutes ago. I think if I have to be in a moving vehicle with you for any kind of extended period of time, I'll start killing pedestrians myself, and I'd rather not have that on my conscience."

"You know, I'm almost proud of you sometimes," he said, staring at me wistfully and sounding for all the world like a mother hen. "Wait, where are you going?? You were kidding about the Pharaoh thing, right?"

I slammed the door behind me and left the building, wondering if I'd gotten myself into even more trouble.

Ω

"Absolutely not."

"I haven't even told you what I wanted yet."

"You started off by saying, 'I know you don't like the Tomb Robber but' and I already know I want no part of it."

The Pharaoh sat across from me. I'd invited him out for a cup of tea, hoping to soften him up before asking him for a favor. I was generally oblivious to these sort of things, but Bakura had noted on more than one occasion that "the baka Pharaoh was staring at your ass again" so I was hoping to use his…crush…on me as leverage. If you could call it that. Didn't look like it was working.

Blast.

"The thing is, you see, he's gotten a job with the Archaeology department at the university, delivering papers, manuscripts and so forth. It's the sort of thing they don't like just putting in the mail, apparently."

"Mm-hmm." He took a sip of his soy latte.

"He thinks he's infiltrating confidential top-secret archaeological discoveries that will aid him in his plan for world domination."

"Fascinating."

"And in order to do this, he's going to have to learn how to drive."

"Delightful. Where do I come in?"

Right then, a clap of thunder boomed. "Well…I was hoping you'd teach him."

The Pharaoh just looked at me with utter, abysmal horror.

I tried to do the big doe eyes and quivery voice that seem to work on most people. "You see, I don't think I have it in me to teach him. You know what he's like. But you…you're just so kind, and good, and patient, and intelligent, and handsome, and…"

"Look," he mumbled, blushing a bit, "you know how much I hate that son of a bitch. And it probably pales in comparison to how much he hates me."

"Nonetheless, you do happen to be possibly one of the only people he actually respects." I gave him my best sales grin, praying it was convincing.

"That would surprise me no end," he muttered. He glanced up at me. "_If _I do this, I'm gonna need a damn good reason."

Oh great. I was so hoping he would just agree to do it because he liked me. I guess living for 5,000 years makes you a bit shrewd when it comes to negotiation. But I didn't really have anything to bargain with. I don't have any money, and besides I'm not sure what he would need that for. I could offer to cook for him, except he doesn't seem to eat. I could clean his house and do the chores for him, but for God's sake, the man spent five millenia in a tomb. I doubt he cares about a bit of dust. What the hell was I gonna give him, a manicure? I brainstormed. Nothing came up.

"Like what?" I asked tentatively.

"You tell me."

I squirmed. I really didn't want to pursue this further. However, I knew that the combination of me, Bakura, and two tons of metal would send me straight to Bellevue.

"If you help me out, I'll do anything you want, Pharaoh," I said, and immediately wished I hadn't. Oh bugger. I hoped I hadn't just screwed myself over. I wasn't hesitating because I didn't find him attractive (because you'd have to be blind not to find him attractive) but because I was certain beyond doubt the Pharoah's the kind of guy who's into whips and handcuffs and all kinds of bizarre and horrifying stuff in the bedroom. You can pretty much tell by just looking at him. Maybe he'd ask me to do his laundry, or his grocery shopping, or reorganize his file cabinets, or feed his cat...if he had a cat…aaaand judging from the look on his face, that was all just a beautiful dream I could kiss goodbye.

"Oh really now?" he asked quietly, sounding interested for the first time. He raised an eyebrow at me, smirking. "You mean that?"

Too late to back out now. "Within reason, yes," I stammered, looking away, hoping I wasn't turning pink.

"You're turning pink, you know."

Blast.

"And what would 'within reason' mean, precisely?"

Oh goodness gracious. "Er, well, nothing illegal. And, well, you know…"

"That leaves plenty of room for improvisation." He stood up, looking very self-satisfied. "I'll come by to pick him up first thing tomorrow morning."

"Wait," I said, trying not to panic. "What do you want me to do in return? I'd be more than happy to reorganize your file cabinets, or – or pick up your dry cleaning, or feed your cat, or…"

"I don't have a cat." He looked at me like I'd just sprouted a second head.

"Well," I managed, rather lamely, "you know what I mean."

"Come to think of it I don't have file cabinets either." He pulled on his jacket.

"Well, what should I do then?"

"I'm still figuring it out. Don't worry," he said, ruffling my hair, "I'll think up something good."

And with that, he was out the door. I heard him laughing to himself as he walked away. I berated myself for my stupidity. Well, at the very least I wouldn't have to risk my mental health. Maybe driving with Bakura would drive the Pharaoh insane and he'd forget he'd asked me to do anything.

It was then I realized the bastard had left me to pay for his soy latte.

Ω

A/N: In case anyone is wondering, Yugi's grandpa taught Yami how to drive so he could have a chauffeur.

And for the purposes of this story, everybody has their own bodies. It's due to a bit of white magic that Isis performed a while back to stop everybody fighting. Its amazing how everybody is less tense when they have their own bodies.

Next chapter: a recap of Bakura's job interview, and his first driving lesson. Buckle your seatbelts! Mwahaha. Oh yes, and would you be so kind as to review?

**Bakura**: Yes, you'd better. Shantih put a lot of effort into this thing, you know. She wrote a whole other story about me, Snow in the Sahara" and it didn't get any reviews! It was wonderfully pretentious and atmospheric. You people just don't recognize true literature when you see it.

**Shantih**: Wait, but you were bitching at me the whole time I was writing this because you didn't have enough screen time and you didn't like the way I portrayed you.

**Bakura**: Well, you agreed to change that, right? According to our plan, by the fifth chapter I'll have been elected dictator of the European Union, for starters, and have my own private palace with a harem and mini-bar.

**Shantih**: Right. Yes. Of course. *sweatdrops*

**Yami:** Shantih! What is this madness? We're all out of ramen, AGAIN!

**Shantih**: Well, I didn't have time to get to the store because I was working on this story. And it's almost 1 in the morning, I can't go get it now.

**Ryou:** I thought you didn't eat.

**Yami:** I don't. Except for ramen and soy lattes. Don't even think about getting me ramen, I'm perfectly capable of making it myself and you won't get off that easily.

**Bakura:** Oh yes, I almost forgot about the part where I get to execute all the dissidents in Central Asia. That's gonna be Chapter Six, right?

*Shantih and Ryou edge towards the door*


	2. Advil, scorpions, and the Rosetta Stone

A/N: How Bakura got the job. Most of this chapter is from the professor's point of view. Also, sorry if I forgot to mention this, but there will be swearing. Thus, the T rating. Enjoy my lovely readers!

Disclaimer: The only person I own in this story is Dr. Zouros, because I invented him.

Ω

Dr. Marcus Zouros had just entered the lecture hall. He was organizing his notes and slides – the projector was iffy in this room and he liked to get there at least fifteen minutes early before each class just to make sure everything was up and running. He'd been a tenured professor and Head of the Archaeology Department at the university for fifteen years, with a specialization in Ancient Egypt. He rarely got nervous before giving lectures anymore – back in the days when he'd been an assistant professor, he used to have to teach classes of over 200 students, and would throw up before each one. Nowadays, he was much more laid-back about the whole thing – much of his time outside the classroom was spent researching, writing articles, and working on his next book, so he no longer worried about being able to handle the pressure.

He rifled through his folders, and pulled out his lesson plan. The door to the hall creaked open, and he glanced up, frowning – class didn't start for another fifteen minutes.

A young man was standing by the door, studying the prints on the wall – the one right next to him was of the famous Rosetta Stone, the cipher that unlocked the meaning of Egyptian hieroglyphics. The young man looked quite peculiar – for one thing he had a shock of long white hair, although he was clearly no more than twenty. He wore a long black trench coat that reached down to his ankles, even though it was May.

Trench coats, trench coats…wasn't that what the school shooters were wearing these days?

"Excuse me, young man. Class doesn't start for another quarter of an hour. You are a student here, right?" Dr. Zouros couldn't recall having seen the youth before.

"No." The guy turned away from the print on the wall and came closer to him. "Dr. Zouros, I presume?"

He put out a hand. Dr. Zouros shook it – it was strong and bony. The young man grinned.

"And you are…?" Oh please, don't let him be a school shooter. Anything but a school shooter. No machine gun…that's a good sign…

"My name is Bakura. They made me leave my machine gun at the door."

Dr. Zouros stared at him. Had he said that out loud? What in the name of…

"Just kidding. I left it in the car. I'm here about that job in the paper."

The professor stared at him for a moment longer, thoroughly mystified. Then, everything seemed to snap into place.

"Oh yes, yes, the delivery job! Splendid! Yes, I'm still looking for someone to fill that position. Thanks for stopping by, sorry I'm a bit rushed, trying to get ready for a class…"

"Don't let me stop you." Bakura took a seat in the front row of the large lecture hall, making himself comfortable.

"Let's see…do you have a valid driver's license?"

Bakura held out a finger in a wait-one-second gesture and dug out the contents of the back pocket of his coat. He unceremoniously dumped them on the professor's desk.

"Good Lord, what is that _thing_?"

"It's a preserved scorpion. I thought you were the local expert on Egypt."

"But, but why…" He trailed off.

One by one, the man named Bakura sifted through the pile, which included a gold necklace set with pearls, several outsized diamonds and other jewels, a strange thing that looked like a golden eye, five dead scarab beetles, a Slim Jim, an opal anklet, a flute, a CVS card, several receipts from Dunkin Donuts, some earrings that looked like they were made of onyx, a box of Advil, a dried human tongue, a Hamsa amulet, a snakeskin and some Chapstick. Finally, he triumphantly presented the professor with a state driver's license.

"There you go!"

The professor blinked at Bakura several times.

"What's wrong with you?" Bakura demanded, impatiently.

"Oh. Nothing, nothing," the professor said as he took the drivers license, feeling significantly more insane than usual. How interesting, this fellow looked so much cuter on his driver's license than in real life. For most people it was the other way around.

"Well, aren't you photogenic," the professor commented.

"Done with that? I'll take that back, thank you." Bakura plucked it from his fingers and concealed it in his coat again.

"So your first name is Ryou? Mind if I call you that?" The professor smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner. He would hate to be murdered so close to his sabbatical.

"Yes, actually," Bakura replied in a clipped tone. "I prefer to be simply referred to as Bakura."

"But what about a first name? Or a last name?"

"Isn't one name enough for you greedy people?"

"You mean like Cher? Or Prince? Or Shakira?"

"What?" He had no idea what this old man was babbling about. "Yes, Shakira. Exactly like Shakira."

The professor could feel the thin tether to his sanity wearing slowly away.

"Splendid," he said jovially. "I trust you know your way around the city. The job will consist mainly of delivering drafts of my manuscript and articles to various academic literati. They aren't copyrighted or anything, which is why I don't want to mail them. If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you to sign an agreement that you won't copy or plagiarize from them."

Apparently, this man's idea of 'signing an agreement' was 'slashing open both of their palms with a razor-sharp knife he suddenly produced, clasping hands, and letting the flowing blood mingle in their veins.' And also drip on the carpet.

At this point Dr. Zouros was far past the point to be making any complaints.

"Fantastic, Mr. Bakura. You'll start Monday." Dr. Zouros noticed the first of his students filing into class, staring at him and his white-haired visitor. Hurriedly, he put the first of his slides onto the projector, trying not to drip blood onto it. "You can stop by my office first thing in the morning and I'll give you the documents and a list of addresses."

Most of the students were sitting down by now.

"Dr. Zouros, what's that blood doing on the carpet?"

"Oh, that's nothing kids," he said cheerfully. "Settle down now." Dr. Zouros glanced over and saw that Bakura had taken a seat and didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. "Today, we'll be studying the etymology and development of hieroglyphic inscriptions from the third millennium BC in Egypt."

He switched on the projector. A slide of hieroglyphics appeared on the wall, magnified to fifty times its original size. He cleared his throat nervously. Bakura seemed to be scanning the text with great interest.

"This is a page from the Egyptian Book of the Dead. Now, I know most of you are not advanced enough yet to decipher the text, so I'll fill you in to what it means." He cleared his throat. "This is a text about Unas, who was a Pharaoh. This is a funerary rite, in which it outlines the various offerings that were made at his funeral, as well as the incantations that were recited. It starts out thus: "Ra, thy son Unas returns to you, across the light indestructible. May he cross the sky united among his people…"

He was interrupted by a sharp laugh.

"You seriously think it's a funeral incantation?" Bakura demanded scornfully. "That's not even close to what it says. Unas wasn't even a Pharaoh."

Dr. Zouros was about to panic. One of his students – a rather stupid sophomore – got to his feet and yelled, "Ok hotshot, tell us what it really says if you're more of an expert than the professor!"

Bakura smiled in a way that probably gave the sophomore nightmares for a good month. "Glad to oblige," he said politely. He got to his feet and walked closer to the slide, crossing his arms and muttering to himself under his breath in a foreign language. Finally, he cleared his throat and translated:

"Unas hath eaten the red crown, and he hath swallowed the white crown. Behold, Unas eateth of that which the red crown sendeth forth, he increaseth, and the magical charms of the gods are within him. Unas hath eaten the whole of the knowledge of every god, and the period of his life is eternity, and the duration of his existence is everlastingness. The soul of the gods is in Unas, the fire of Unas is in their bones, and their shades are with those who belong unto them. _En ba-d en xaibit-a maa-f neter aa. _You _idiots__." _

With that, he turned and stalked toward the exit. Dr. Zouros, wide-eyed, looked from his slide, to Bakura, and back again. Although heads turned to watch the stranger go, the students just sat there, shocked into silence.

At the exit, Bakura looked up at the print on the wall again, and turned back to Dr. Zouros.

"Hey, Professor?"

Dr. Zouros twitched. "…What?"

"You know that Rosetta stone translation you mortals have?"

"...Yes?"

"It's all bullshit. You need to redo it."

One of the girls caught sight of something hideous on the professor's desk and screamed, pointing at the thing. The professor looked at it and remembered something.

"Er, Bakura?"

"Yes, what is it?"

"You forgot your scorpion."

"Oh, it's served its purpose. You can keep it. See you Monday."

And with a flash of white hair, he was gone.

Class was dismissed early that day.

Ω

A/N: Just so you know, the facts about Ancient Egypt are not strictly true (not that you should ever trust facts from a fanfiction) but yeah. I started out from actual facts but then jazzed them up for the purposes of the story. Unas was a Pharaoh, but he was also a bull god, and that is an actual passage from the Book of the Dead. I found the translation at this fantastic website called Sacred Texts, which has lots of other stuff as well as Ancient Egyptian texts. Anyway, don't use me as a research source. You should definitely use Bakura though.

**Bakura:** What? No, don't use me. Get away.

**Yami:** How did you learn to read anyway? You're a commoner.

**Bakura:** I taught myself. Nobody counts on a literate thief, I suppose.

**Yami:** So why can't you teach yourself how to drive then?

**Bakura:** I already suggested that. Shantih won't let me.

**Shantih:** Oh yes, I almost forgot. I promised to have the first driving lesson here, but the job part ended up being a lot longer than I expected! It'll definitely be in chapter three.

**Ryou:** Just wondering, Bakura, what purpose did the scorpion serve?

**Shantih:** You really don't want to know.

**Yami:** You can get high from scorpions. I read it online. I never tried it.

**Bakura:** That's not what I used it for, you degenerate.

**Yami:** You can also get high from snorting ramen seasoning, apparently. *coughs* *stomach rumbles*

**Shantih:** Oh fine. I'll go to the sto'.

**Bakura:** Can you pick up some raw steak while you're out?

**Ryou:** *glancing around nervously* Umm, I'll come with you! I'm all out of marshmallows.


	3. A Good Source of Protein

A/N: Thank you to my lovely reviewers so far, haruka-kinns and consumedbylove! I'm so glad you like it! This chapter is dedicated to you =)

Disclaimer: I don't own Evil Dead 2. Or any of the Evil Dead movies.

**Bakura:** I do.

**Shantih:** Having the DVD doesn't count, silly.

Ω

YAMI'S POV

"So let me get this straight," Bakura said testily, arms folded, standing in the door of the tiny place he and Ryou shared. He looked quite vicious considering he was only wearing a pair of Ryou's purple boxers. "You're at my apartment because you think I need your help driving."

"Sort of."

Bakura gently ushered the Pharaoh towards the door. "Look, I'm kind of busy right now, so how about you go outside and play a nice game of hide-and-go-fuck-yourself, and I'll lock the door."

"You don't understand, thief," I said, trying to get a hold on my anger. "I've made a promise to Ryou. You're going to get in the damn car, and I'm going to teach you how to drive."

"A promise to Ryou?" The tomb robber sneered. "How cute. No thanks. Now go away, I need to finish watching Evil Dead 2." He turned and stalked back to the couch. I looked at my watch.

"Why the hell are you watching Evil Dead 2 at 9 o clock in the goddamn morning?"

"It's part of my daily mental health regimen, it puts me in a better mood." He settled back against the pillows, looking at me quizzically, as if he dared me to say something.

I sighed and followed him. "In that case, maybe you'd better finish it."

Ω

An hour later, after laughing himself silly over the copious amounts of carnage and possession that were taking place on the screen, Bakura switched off the TV and leaned back with a big smile on his face.

"So, Pharaoh, what did you think?"

"Well," I began, not wanting to offend him. "I'm not sure I really understood anything after the hand part. But the acting was top-notch."

He scoffed. "What's not to get? His hand was possessed by the undead demons of the Necronomicon, so he had to chop it off to stop it from killing him and preventing him from besting the Deadites. Duh. I see your point though," he continued. "It would have been much better if he had allowed the hand to end his pathetic mortal life. You can only expect so much from an '80's horror flick though." That hadn't been my point, not even close, but I suspected now was not the time to get involved in an argument with Bakura over film. We had more important things to do.

"Well," I said, standing up and trying to sound chipper. "Now that's over with, what do you say we get out into the nice sunny day and learn how to drive?"

"In your dreams, baka Pharaoh," he growled. The temperature in the room went down several degrees. "I already know how to drive anyway."

Yeah, right. Bakura knew how to drive, and the Pope was Jewish. I tried another tactic. "If you already know how to drive, I challenge you to show me. If it turns out you're right, I'll buy you lunch."

It was a done deal.

Ω

The thief threw on a wifebeater, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and followed me out the door. However, the minute we were outside, the complaints started up again.

"You can't seriously expect me to drive around in this heap of junk." The 'heap of junk' he was referring to was Ryou's 1983 Lincoln Town Car. It was the only car the poor kid could afford, and in spite of the fact that it was technically an antique, it ran just fine.

"You'll drive this car, and you'll like it. Has it occurred to you that if you get in an accident on the job, you will no longer have access to the secret documents that will help you conquer the world?"

He swore loudly in Egyptian and grabbed me by the shoulders, glaring at me. "Did Ryou tell you that?" I didn't answer. Boy, if looks could kill, I'd be nothing but a stain the pavement right about now. "Well, for your information," he told me haughtily, shoving me away, "that is not my plan. My plan is completely different, and has nothing to do with secret documents." He got into the driver's seat, and I got into passenger.

Heaving a relieved sigh, I proffered the keys, only to find that he was holding the Millennium Ring in both hands, with his eyes closed, brow furrowing in concentration, reciting some kind of chant.

"Er, Bakura? What are you doing?"

"_Nuk Su paut ba-a pu neter ba-a _shutupassholeyou'rebreakingmyconcentration _mu-k er pet xa-k er ta heh…"_

I watched him for a few more minutes, trying not to smile. He was even sort of cute when he was concentrating. I didn't think he would ever acclimate to modern technology. Frowning, he finally opened his eyes and glared at the steering wheel.

"I don't understand. Blasted thing." He punched the steering wheel and jumped back in surprise when it emitted a loud honk.

"Need these?" I held out the car keys.

"What the bloody hell are those for?" He scowled at me suspiciously as if I'd just tried to slip rat poison in his food. At this point I was almost able to envision myself doing so.

How could I put this… "Bakura, your attempts to take over its soul using Shadow Magic aren't working because this car doesn't have a soul. It's a machine."

"Nonsense. It moves. It just yelled at me."

After some exhortations, during which I took him outside to look under the trunk and tried to explain the function of a horn, I finally managed to convince him that it didn't have a soul.

"Ok, let's start over." We were back in the car. I handed him the keys. "This is the right way to start a car. You put the key in the ignition, which is right over here, and turn it."

Hesitantly, he did so. The engine stalled at first, then growled to life and turned over. The car purred and rumbled in the driveway. Another reason why I like Japanese cars better – they make a lot less noise. I shot a glance over at my student driver. He was clutching the steering wheel with both hands so tight his knuckles were white. He seemed to be frozen in fear, and was staring straight ahead.

"By Ra…" he swore. "I fear I have meddled with an evil even greater than myself. Goddamn Pharaoh," he suddenly snapped, "I should never have listened to you! I only hope that we have not angered it. Perhaps it will let us escape with our lives."

For fuck's sake. We were never going to get anywhere.

"Look, I explained this to you. It's just the engine. The engine is what makes it move. It is not alive. It has never been alive, and will never be alive. Understand?" I made him turn it off and on several more times before he calmed down.

"Now, that's the gas pedal on the right, and to the left is your brake. That's what lets you stop. When you want to drive forward, you shift the gear to 'drive' using this stick on your right. And when you want to go backward…"

Oops, too late, he had already shifted it to drive and stepped on the gas. Which meant, of course, that we went hurtling straight into the garage wall. And I hadn't buckled my seat belt.

"Congratulations, Tomb Robber. That's exactly what _not_ to do when you want to go backwards." Groaning, I rubbed my head from where I'd hit it on the windshield. It wasn't too bad, we hadn't been going fast. I hoped I didn't have a concussion. I noticed a wheel rolling slowly out of the garage; Ryou's bike was totaled as well.

The thief mumbled something that sounded like 'sorry' and I decided to give it the old college try. But first: "Do you have any Advil?" I asked him. He brightened up and pulled a box of it out of his coat and handed it to me. When I opened it, a large, shiny, very-much-alive scarab beetle crawled out. I shrieked (I'm ashamed to say, in a not-very-masculine way) and tried to brush it off frantically. I'd been hoping to not have to see one of those infernal creatures ever again.

"Don't move," the thief told me, with a gleam in his eyes. I did my best to remain still while the creature crawled around in my lap. Bakura slowly leaned over the creature, watching it…and suddenly slapped it where it had crawled on my thigh. I winced. That would definitely leave a bruise. He peeled the remains of the beetle off my pants and popped them into his mouth.

Oh…God. I focused very hard on not throwing up.

"What?" he asked, glancing sideways at me, still chewing the beetle. I tried to hide my no doubt horrified expression. "Look, it's a good source of protein. You would know this if you had to grow up in the desert. If you don't mind things a little crunchy, it's actually pretty good. Now how do we get out of here?"

I showed him how to put the car in reverse and made sure to buckle up before we left the driveway. Now where were those Advil…my head was starting to hurt like a bitch.

Somehow, we managed to get out onto the street without any injuries. We did happen to be halfway on the sidewalk, but I let it slide. "You're doing good. Now turn the wheel to the left…step on the brake now…okay put it in drive…there you go!"

Unfortunately, it was just a matter of time before he discovered that the harder you stepped on the gas, the faster you went.

Ω

**Shantih:** I hope you liked this chapter! Please please please let me know what you think… I'd really appreciate reviews and suggestions! It'll make me super-happy!

**Bakura:** Yes, you'd better give Shantih some reviews or else I'll hack your facebook and tell everybody you're gay. Because I can do that. And if you're gay, I'll hack it anyway and tell people you're straight, which is even more horrifying.

**Shantih:** Where's the Pharaoh, by the way? I haven't seen him all day.

**Bakura:** Oh, he was having ramen withdrawal hallucinations and started freaking out about cosplayers lurking behind the shower curtain so I locked him in the closet. He's quieted down a bit. I should probably let him out at some point…

*enter Marik*

**Marik:** Sweet mammajamma, why on earth didn't you ask_ me_ to teach you how to drive instead of letting the bastard Pharaoh do it?

**Shantih:** Look, Marik, you only know how to drive a motorcycle, for one thing.

**Marik:** So what? They're better for the environment.

**Shantih**: For another thing, your driving record makes Charles Manson look like a law-abiding citizen. I need someone to teach Bakura who _isn't _going to mow down elderly people just for the hell of it.

**Marik:** I did that once. _Once_! Can a guy get a break around here?

*all of a sudden, there is banging from upstairs. Yami's voice is muffled*

**Yami:** Bakura, let me out for Ra's sake…they're in here now! Sailor Neptune is trying to take off my shirt and there's a fat guy dressed as a Totoro! HELP!

*cackling, Marik and Bakura run out the door together*

**Shantih:** Bakura, you son of a bitch! Where's the key? GET BACK HERE!


	4. 2 Fast 2 Furious

A/N: Yay!!! Reviews!!! Seriously, you guys made my day. And probably my tomorrow too. 3x4375894243523. And a half.

consumedbylove: yup, I'm pretty sure they're poisonous…it's because of what they eat. Bakura's built up a resistance to them though. And, as for the tongue, he stole it from Aknamkanon's sarcophagus before he lost his body. Because if his physical body wasn't intact, then his ka (soul) wouldn't be able to reconnect with the body and it would wander the afterlife forever. Yami doesn't know that, though. So happy you like it! ^^

haruka-kinns: trenchcoats FTW. And don't worry about the facebook thing, Bakura said he likes you because your name is almost exactly like his with one letter different. Yay, I like making people laugh 3

natcat5: Thank you!! And YES I LOVE YGOTAS. That's where 'Egyptian Fury' came from (so much more badass than Brooklyn Fury imho). I'm still gonna try to figure out a way to incorporate Effeminate Fury. Mwahaha…:D

Ω

YAMI'S POV

You know, I really do like Ryou. I can't really explain why – part of it is his personality, of course. He's always been sweet, unpretentious, and adorable. I love the way he gets all flustered and pink when he's nervous. I love the fact that somehow he manages to permanently smell like cookies and tea. And I happen to be a sucker for British accents, I've found, which is really quite peculiar when you think about it, because Britain was still in the Stone Age when I was alive, and I have a feeling they certainly didn't talk like Ryou back then. Ah well, stranger things have happened.

He's also got the most beautiful brown eyes. Despite everything that's happened to the poor guy, they still seem to be completely honest and trusting. He has a smile that makes baby kittens feel like they're bad people. And he's got a really sweet ass. I mean, it's a piece of art unto itself. Whatever God created it must be proud. I've been used to getting what I want, obviously, and keeping my hands off him hasn't been easy.

All in all, Ryou is a man after my own heart. And yet, with all that said, I'm not sure even he is worth the hell that I'm currently going through at the moment.

It turns out the Tomb Robber is a speed freak. Considering he's only been driving for 30 seconds (and does not yet know how to _stop_ a car), that is definitely a bad thing.

I stared at the windshield, trying to pretend this whole thing wasn't really happening. We were hurtling down the street at 70 miles an hour, and the speedometer was rising. Bakura was leaning forward, hunched over the steering wheel with a maniacal glint in his eyes. If I made it out of this thing alive, I swore to myself, I would figure out some way to get Bakura in a state mental hospital. Indefinitely.

"For God's sake, you're about to hit that telephone pole!" I screamed.

We wheeled sharply to the left. An oncoming car in the left lane honked at us, but Bakura just floored the gas pedal, cackling hysterically. The poor driver had no choice but to veer to the right, going up onto the sidewalk and crashing into a storefront.

"Bakura, you're supposed to drive on the right side of the road! What the hell is the matter with you?"

"There are other cars on the right side of the road," he observed astutely. Damn right there were. I couldn't see the drivers clearly since we were roaring by at warp speed, but I was certain they were all dialing 911. Or the Anti-Terrorism Hotline.

"Your point?"

"Well, I'd have to stay behind them, right? It's much easier to just go on the left side."

"_Into oncoming traffic?"_ I screeched.

"You saw, they're all getting out of the way."

You really can't argue with logic like that. Suddenly, there was a crunch. I caught a glimpse of something furry in the rearview mirror.

"Uh, Bakura? I think we just hit a raccoon."

"Oh, did I get him?" he asked delightedly.

It was obvious. I needed to formulate a plan to a) get him to slow down, and b) get the fuck out of this car. I really didn't fancy having to throw myself from a car the size of a small boat, at 80 miles an hour. I was 110% sure that if I wasn't able to immediately run away, the lunatic in the driver's seat would take the opportunity to throw the car in reverse and run over my twitching body. Several times. The trouble was, at the moment I couldn't really do anything but sit frozen in fear.

A funeral procession came up in the right lane. Snickering to himself, the Tomb Robber turned the steering wheel to the right and sped up. I had to give him credit, he wasn't bad at steering; he positioned himself perfectly so he scraped each and every car, breaking off their rearview mirrors and probably fucking up their doors irreversibly. Above the wind, I could hear the screaming and curses being flung in our direction. With a manic gleam in his eye, the thief sped up so he was parallel with the hearse. Suddenly he veered to the right, knocking the huge black car off kilter and sending it careening into the side of the road, where it hit a brick wall. I turned around just in time to see it crash and burst into flames.

"Nice going," I said sarcastically.

"Thanks," he said, apparently taking my statement at face value. "You know, this isn't nearly as hard as Ryou made it sound."

"That's because you're breaking every road law known to man. You do realize that if someone sees our license plate number, Ryou will be going to prison for a very long time." Despite his feigned indifference, I knew he did care about his hikari. I hoped, foolishly, that this would convince him to stop…

I didn't count on what happened next, which was that Bakura suddenly switched the gear shift to reverse, and backed into a nearby tree several times at full speed.

Yup, I thought to myself groggily. I definitely have a concussion now. Hello whiplash. Shouldn't the airbag have deployed by now?

The license plate clattered to the ground behind us. Bakura put an arm around the passenger seat and looked out the back. Seemingly pleased with his ingenious strategy, he sped off again.

He rounded a corner suddenly, and the tires screeched loudly enough to give me goosebumps, leaving puddles of molten rubber in their wake. I looked around at the scenery and immediately knew we were near the high school where Yugi, Ryou, and all their friends attended.

"Not that it really matters at this point, but when you see those yellow signs, it means you're in a school zone…where most people slow down…because that's the law…"

He gave me a deadpan, 'are-you-really-still-bothering-me-with-this-bullshit' stare.

I spotted a familiar fluff of white hair strolling across the lawn a little ways away.

"Ryou's right over there, he'll see you. You really need to slow down now, just step on the brake gradually…"

The thief seemed not to hear me at all. He'd spotted Ryou, and had changed direction. We crashed over the sidewalk, and were now hurtling over the grassy green lawn straight towards him. Bakura honked the horn a few times loudly. Ryou looked up.

The expression in his eyes changed from surprise, to pure, unadulterated terror. He froze and dropped his book bag, staring wide-eyed at the oncoming menace.

"Run, Ryou!" I screamed as loud as I could.

"Hey, good lookin'!" Bakura shouted out of the open window, and wolf-whistled loud enough for Ryou to hear. We were heading straight for the poor teen who seemed unable to move, hurtling closer and closer. He threw up his arms to cover his face…Oh God, he was going to die…

At the last possible minute, Bakura made a hairpin turn and veered away from Ryou, missing him by a good six inches at best, and speeding away again over the lawn back to the street. I turned and looked over my shoulder in time to see Ryou shudder violently, then collapse where he stood.

"Why did you do that?! Bakura, we have to go back," I said, using all my might to restrain myself from strangling the bastard. "Ryou's fainted."

"Oh for God's sake," said the thief petulantly. "He's fine. I wasn't going to hurt your little boyfriend."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Give me a break. I know all about your little deal and your underhanded plans to molest him. He's way too gullible for his own good – the poor fool was actually hoping you _wouldn't_ take the opportunity to violate him, if you can believe that," he commented sardonically. "Not that it's any of my business, you can do what you want behind closed doors. Keep in mind we still share a mind-link though. Where to now?"

"To the magical land of Fuck You."

"Thanks for the invitation. Although I'm not sure how I'll manage to fuck you, since I'm driving, but you look like the flexible type." He chuckled to himself. _"Ya ib'n el labouaa…"_

If I got out of this thing alive, I swore to almighty Ra, I would torture him…_oh_ yes, I would torture him. He would _beg _for death. I played out various scenarios in my head, all of them soothing.

There he'd be, chained to a dungeon wall completely naked. I, of course would have just finished lashing him with my special whip – notorious for the metal spikes at the end. Beaten and bruised, he'd be begging for mercy…blood would be running down his naked, lean torso…I'd lick it off, slowly…he'd whimper, finally beaten…but no pity would be shown…mmm…

Wait, no. Wrong Bakura. Ew. What's the matter with me?

There was really nothing I could do at this point, so I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was on a rollercoaster. It almost worked, until the car began to suddenly careen from side to side. My eyes flew open.

Sweet Mother of Osiris. Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse. Bakura had folded himself into an awkward position in the driver's seat, his knee in the air, and was now steering – yes, _steering _– with his left _foot_, while the right remained on the gas. He seemed to be fumbling in his pockets for something.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Tomb Robber?" I boomed. "Get your hands back on the steering wheel at this very moment!"

"Oh, stuff it," he muttered, finally extracting his cigarettes from his coat.

"You've got to look where you're going!"

Up ahead, there was some kind of street fair going on. There were hot dog stands, lots of little kids with balloons, families milling around on a fine, fair summer's day. It was a perfect scene which was, unfortunately, about to come to a bloody end.

"Bakura, you need to stop! There are a ton of people up there!"

He glanced up, and turned the steering wheel with his foot so we were now making a beeline for the fair. Out of desperation, I flung myself over to the driver's side and honked the horn as loud as I could to warn everybody. Many of the people looked up and began to run.

Bakura shoved me away so hard I hit the window. "Baka Pharaoh," he growled. "What did you do that for? Now they'll be harder to get." Still searching for his lighter, he watched the scattering crowd carefully.

He spotted his quarry – a large man in a suit, running away in the opposite direction. The stupid fool was running down the middle of the street, which made him easy prey. Bakura triumphantly sped straight towards him. The man turned at the last moment, and I was shocked to recognize him as Kemo, Pegasus' bodyguard from the Duelist Kingdom tournament. I hadn't seen him in a while. He was still wearing his sunglasses, so I couldn't see his eyes, but it was obvious he was terrified. Kemo threw up his hands and screamed.

"My hair's life is flashing before its eyes!"

Then the poor bastard hit the windshield with a sickening thud, rolled over the top, and fell to the pavement behind us. The windshield was now cracked, blood spewed everywhere on the surface of Ryou's car, and Bakura was smiling as if he'd just won the lottery.

"Is he dead?" he demanded. I looked back. Kemo was twitching, and it even looked like he was trying to crawl away.

"Definitely dead," I lied through my teeth. "Good job."

Bakura let out a happy sigh, and pulled out a Camel unfiltered. He lit it up and took a long drag.

"Do you know how bad those things are for you?"

"Aw, are you worried for me Pharaoh? That's sweet."

"In your dreams. I'm just observing that you've got to be an idiot to smoke. I knew that already though."

He exhaled, taking minute care to blow the smoke sideways right into my face. I coughed.

"For your royal information, I did a lot worse things to my body back in the Kingdom, and I'm still around. Anyway, I'm not the one who sat around in the Palace all day smoking hashish."

Oh, touché, you bastard.

The nicotine rush must have made him dizzy or something, because I could tell we were slowing down a bit. We were still doing around 50, but I knew it was now or never.

We were speeding down a lonely street. Thankfully, there were only parked cars by the side of the street, and no pedestrians were around to be used for target practice. I looked over at the driver. His head was surrounded in a haze of smoke, and he was gazing ahead contentedly. Trying not to make any noise, I cautiously opened the passenger door…

Ω

A/N: Don't smoke kids! And FYI ya ib'n el labouaa means something nasty in Arabic. Bakura speaking different languages makes me happy for some reason. By the by, I'm working on a new story now – it's going to be about Malik and the Thief King back in Ancient Egypt. I'm having a lot of fun with it so far. Ishizu's in it too. I won't give away the plot, but I'll let you know when I put it up.

**Shantih:** Whatcha think? Any suggestions or ideas?

**Marik:** You should have him be driving a motorcycle instead.

**Shantih:** Somebody _other _than Marik?

**Marik:** He should have gotten one of the children too.

**Yami:** When you put it like that, I suppose it could have been worse.

**Shantih:** That's true. Well, I hope my dear readers liked it. Reviewers will get a free batch of cookies baked by Bakura.

**Bakura:** What? No. I'm not baking anything.

**Shantih:** You _have_ to. Otherwise they have no incentive to review, and then how will you know what they really think of you?

**Bakura:** As if I care for their petty opinions.

**Shantih:** Want me to write you out of the story?

**Bakura:** Oh fine. You really owe me that harem.

*Bakura wanders off to the kitchen*


	5. Mercy Killings and Fangirl Tears

A/N: OMG, I love you all so much. You guys are seriously the best. You have no idea how happy reviews make me (my family can tell when I've gotten reviews because I'm so bouncy)…it's so awesome to get feedback on stuff I've written, and you all seem to like it so far! YIPPEE! *huge smile*

haruka-kinns: LOL I laugh too when I'm reading or writing fanfics…although my family *knows* I'm crazy. =) bwahaha…THANKS FOR THE SUGGESTION! I love it when people actually suggest things! Keep your eyes peeled for a certain CEO in future chapters….3 (btw you're awesome)

hiddencry: Haha, yeah poor Ryou. He needs a hug. The car is very resilient, however, as you will see in this chappie…they don't make 'em like that anymore! (thank you for reviewing!!! ^^)

lovenyami: I'm sorry about your family. Mine is pretty much the same thing. *hugs* =( yeah, smoking is really dumb…plus he's giving Yami second-hand smoke, the bastard! He'd better not make it cool again! *shakes fist* X( But I'm glad you liked it! Hmm, Bakura at your school? *gets idea for future chapter*

ltkk022: I won the internet!?!?! Oh wow, I feel super-important now =D I was so happy when you posted that I updated it to my facebook status. Bwahaha. ^^ Lol, yup Yami's kind of naïve in this story. YGO TAS episode 42 is up, w00t!

CommandoGirl: *moment of silence for the raccoon* Thanks for your lovely review! I want to go read your stories when I have a chance. As a matter of fact, I'm going to read everybody's stories who reviews when I have a chance. ^^ So glad you liked it!

consumedbylove: The cookies are a lie…(just kidding) Yummy treats await at the end! *warm fuzzies* Thank you, I always love reading your reviews!

Ω

I perched on the edge of the passenger seat. Slowly, ever so slowly, I reached out my hand and pulled the handle of the door. It unlatched, but I held it closed. I glanced back at Bakura. He was still gazing straight ahead, blowing out smoke through his nose. We were slowing down even more – we couldn't be doing more than 40. Was he okay?

Cautiously, I opened the door just a crack. Since the window was already open, it didn't make much extra noise. I pushed it open a little more, hardly believing my good luck. I looked back again, and Bakura still hadn't noticed anything. I was almost there…I took a breath, on the verge of jumping…

The car sped up faster than I thought humanly possible and violently sideswiped a parked van. The force from the door threw me back so I fell on Bakura's lap and cracked my head on the window.

"…Ow." I rubbed my head. My hand came back sticky with blood. I opened one eye and looked up at the Tomb Robber, who was laughing so hard he was actually crying.

After another moment, he got a hold on himself. "Holy Anubis, I wasn't expecting you to be dim enough to actually go for it!" He burst out in another laughing fit, causing the car to go all swervy. I should have known. I knew him to have the innate reflexes of a thief, and it should have been obvious he was fucking with me.

I hissed in pain. Dammit, I'd forgotten he was still holding that cigarette. Now I had ash in my eye on top of everything else.

"Congratulations, Pharaoh. You're so mentally deficient you qualify for a mercy killing."

That did it. Unable to restrain myself any longer, I flung myself at him with the crystal-clear intention of strangling the son of a bitch to death.

"You idiot! Not while I'm driving!" To hear him yelling at me, you'd think he'd been trying_ not _to crash into things all along. Amusing. He thrashed around, trying to get me off of him, which was luckily hard to do since we were in such a confined space. I grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled as hard I could. "You little _bastard_!" he screamed, and jabbed a finger into my eye.

I finally got my hands around his throat at the same precise moment that he lost all control of the steering wheel.

Ω

The Robinson family had just settled down to enjoy a nice afternoon watching Scrubs. Mrs. Robinson had made rice crispie treats, and the kids were sitting on the couch with the family dog, Bonzo. Mr. Robinson had his feet up on the ottoman. They had just begun to relax, when little Freddie saw something.

He pointed. "Hey, why's there a car on our…"

And was cut short when the Lincoln crashed straight through their front window. Mr. Robinson screamed, tried to run, slipped and knocked himself out on the floor. Mrs. Robinson fainted. Bonzo started barking hysterically. The car ground to a halt, halfway on the lawn, halfway inside the house. The windshield was cracked and smeared with blood. The kids, Freddie and Martha, looked at each other.

"Cool!" they yelled at the same time, and ran up to the car to investigate.

Inside, slumped over the steering wheel, were two very strange-looking people. One, with white hair, was wearing nothing but boxers, a wifebeater, and a trench coat. The other had spiky, yellow-black-and-red hair, and appeared to be entirely dressed in leather and PVC. He groaned.

"I think my ribs are cracked…"

Freddie and Martha drew closer. This was way more exciting than Scrubs!

Suddenly the white-haired one sat bolt upright and spotted the kids. They jumped.

"Hello there, kiddies," he said, smiling in what he hoped was a friendly manner. "Come over here, I need your help with something."

Ω

YAMI'S POV

"No, move his hands a bit to the right…there you go."

The light penetrating my eyelids was a fuzzy grey. I tried to remember where I was.

"Tighter, you twits!" I heard a growl, from somewhere behind me.

Ah yes. The dulcet tones of a certain Tomb Robber's voice. I'd been teaching him how to drive, and it hadn't exactly been going well. The last thing I remembered was veering out of control and crashing into a…

Oh crap.

My eyes flew open. The light gave me an instant headache – I must have really hit my head bad. The first thing I noticed was that my arms were raised above my head in an awkward and painful position. I tried to move them and couldn't. I twisted around a bit to try and see in back of me.

All I could see was that the thief was fumbling with something. My hands seemed to have gone numb.

"Tomb Robber!" I bellowed, as fiercely as I could, which at the moment wasn't very fiercely. "What do you think you're doing?"

I heard a couple of children giggle excitedly. "What I think I'm doing is inconsequential," he said smoothly, sounding quite pleased with himself. "So you should first ask _your_self, what does it _feel _like I'm doing?'

"It feels like you've tied my hands behind the seat. But I _know_ you wouldn't actually _do_ that because I know you don't want to _die_ this soon."

"Trust your senses, they'll rarely deceive you. Thank Martha and Freddie, they helped too." Oh you bastard. "Good job, kiddies," I heard him tell them happily. Bakura climbed back into the front seat and looked me up and down carefully. I gave him a death stare as I tried to wiggle my hands, hoping to find some give to the knot he'd tied. I was out of luck. I realized he'd used my own belt to bind me.

"You'll rot in the Shadow Realm for this, Tomb Robber."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Tell it to Anubis."

"Untie me immediately, and I _may _allow you to live."

The kids popped up behind him, bouncing up and down jubilantly. "What should we do now, Fluffy?"

"…you told them your name was Fluffy?"

"No," he glowered at me. "I have no clue where they got that idea. Now hold still." I protested as he climbed onto my lap. "Let's see, what have we here," he muttered, looking me over. "Aha!"

He reached out and undid my choker that I always wore. I tried my best to bite him, but the bastard evaded me. "What did you do that for?" I demanded indignantly.

He laughed. "I'm teaching you a lesson, Pharaoh. Dressing like a bondage slave will get you treated like one."

Oh _no_. I started to flail about, trying to kick at him since I couldn't move my arms, but he managed to hold me down and nimbly bound my ankles with the damn choker. Now that I was completely trussed up, he climbed off me and looked his work over with satisfaction.

"Think of this as a lesson in karma, dear Pharaoh."

The kids were looking up at him adoringly. Freddie pointed at me.

"Can we tickle him, Fluffy?"

"Knock yourselves out."

My screams echoed for miles around.

Ω

Fifteen minutes later, I still sat tied up in the passenger seat, as outside, Bakura did his best to push the car back outside onto the lawn. He hadn't counted on me being so ticklish, but rather than telling the kids to stop, he'd just opted to gag me instead. With my own socks. I was certain at this point there was no way this situation could get any worse.

After tickling me half to death, the kids had wandered off, bored. That was sort of good, at least.

Looking around, I saw a group of people approaching. Thank Ra! They had to be neighbors who'd heard my bloodcurdling screeches, and had come to rescue me! They drew nearer, cautiously. There was an older woman in a bathrobe and curlers, holding the hand of a little girl, a young yuppie couple, an old pedophile-looking guy, and a group of three teenage girls in running gear. Bakura, intent on heaving the car out of the living room, didn't notice them. I squirmed and tried to draw attention to my situation in the hopes of being saved.

"Mmmph. Mmmngh-mmwwr!" I said, trying to convey my desperation.

The older woman saw me and gasped. She covered her little girl's eyes and dragged her in the opposite direction.

Goddamnit no! I'm not _actually_ a bondage slave!

The rest of them had spotted me too. The yuppies stared at me with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation and started whispering to each other. The pedophile-looking guy grinned in a manner even more unsettling than Bakura's, if that was possible. The teenage girls' eyes got big and they started to drool.

Where are normal suburbanites when you need them?

"_Ra-fucking-damnit-to-hell!"_ I heard Bakura scream. I looked up just in time to see him aim a kick at the front bumper, then double over in pain, clutching his foot. "Why does this crappy body have to be so _skinny_? Back in Egypt, I could have picked this thing up and walked down the street with it." _That_ was a bit of an exaggeration.

Unfortunately, the rest of them had heard him too, and drew closer to see him.

The pedophile licked his lips. One of the yuppies took a picture with their iPhone. And the teenage girls started to squeal, which made Bakura look around. A diabolical grin came over his face, and he drew a knife from his coat before you could say Jackie Robinson.

"All right, which of you pathetic mortals wants it first?" he yelled.

"Who the hell are you?" asked one of the yuppies, carefully.

He threw back his head and laughed. "If you don't follow my orders immediately, I shall become the instrument of your destruction!" He brandished his blade at them threateningly. The yuppies put their hands up, as did the pedophile guy, who was, incredibly, still grinning from ear to ear. I really didn't want to know what he was thinking about.

"That's right, minions! Submit to my will!"

The teenage girls screamed in delight. Bakura growled in irritation.

"If you lot don't stop acting like cats in heat, I'll run you right through."

This only made them squeal more and jump up and down.

"_Omigod his knife is sooo big!"_

Bakura turned red and threw a rock at them. The girls immediately retrieved it and started fighting about who should get to keep it. The Tomb Robber turned back to the other three.

"All right you sorry excuses for human beings, get behind the front bumper and push this heap of junk out onto the street."

The yuppies sweatdropped and ran to do what he said. The old pervert, on the other hand, sidled up to Bakura, who blanched and backed away, holding the knife out in front of him.

"What if I don't?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Are you going to tie me up with him?" He gestured back towards me.

"Certainly not," Bakura snarled. "I'll just disembowel you and feed your intestines back to you." The pedophile-looking guy turned pale and ran to go push the car.

I started to make loud mmmph-ing noises again and twist around so they would get the hint and try to rescue me. One of the yuppies saw me and turned back to Bakura.

"Is…is that guy okay?"

"Just peachy," said Bakura smirking.

"'Cause it kind of looks like he's tied up."

"That's because he's my gay lover. He's into BDSM and there's nothing he likes better than being bound, tortured and humiliated. Those are just a few of his favorite things. He's uke too, obviously. Feel free to tell everyone you know."

Oh. My. God.

The fangirls had all started to breathe fast.

The yuppie laughed nervously. "Sure! We're progressive liberals, we're totally down with that." He returned to pushing the car.

I was pretty sure I was going to start crying.

Ω

Finally, after more pushing, shoving, and psychological abuse, the car was back out on the street. The yuppies and the pedophile guy backed away with their hands in the air, and the teenage girls stared longingly as Bakura sheathed his knife and got back into the driver's seat.

Incredibly, the car was still working. The engine turned over, Bakura flipped the bird out the window (causing the fangirls to shiver) and we sped away down the street. I stared out the window. The only thing I wanted now was an end to this suffering. If that meant death, so be it. The Tomb Robber glanced over and noticed my apathy.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" He reached over and took off the gag. I spat a few times to get the taste of sock out of my mouth.

"Why aren't you yelling or something?" He actually sounded worried. I just gave him a blank stare to let him know that I was through fighting. He met my eyes, looking concerned. "Say something."

"Just let me out. That, or kill me."

The grin returned to his face. "Oh no, not just yet, Pharaoh. I think we're going to go on a little road trip."

This time, I really did start crying.

Ω

**Shantih:** Well, we got plenty of lovely reviews last time! 'Kura, bring out the cookies!

*Bakura enters wearing an apron and oven mitts, holding a tray of rice krispie treats*

**Ryou:** *delighted* Oh, I didn't know you made rice krispie treats Bakura!

**Bakura:** I don't. I stole them from some children.

**Marik:** *hurk hurk*

**Ryou:** That's a terrible thing to do! You should be ashamed.

*he is unable to resist the cookies and eats one anyway*

**Shantih:** These rice krispie treats are a funny color, Bakura…

*Ryou chokes and spits it out*

**Ryou:** By Jove, what did you put in these?

**Bakura:** Oh, just a special ingredient.

**Shantih:** _*_threateningly*_ Tell me what it is._

**Bakura:** Just a bit of pedophile blood, that's all.

*Ryou turns pale and runs for the bathroom*

**Marik:** That's kind of sick, even for a villain.

**Bakura:** Oh please. It's completely organic, and it's a good source of iron. I even sprinkled some fangirl tears on top for good measure. Apparently they have magical properties.

**Yami:** Does it get you high?

**Bakura:** Sure, why not.

*Yami takes a rice krispie treat. Bakura offers one to Shantih. She bangs her head against the wall*

**Bakura:** By the by, this is the fifth chapter, and there wasn't any harem. I'm very disappointed in you.

**Shantih:** Uh…well, in this other story I'm working on and haven't put up yet, you have a harem. An all-male harem.

**Marik:** I know you too well, Shantih. My hikari's probably in his harem too.

**Bakura:** Well, _is_ he?

**Shantih:** *sweatdrops* Funny you should ask that…

*Bakura jumps around giddily pointing at Marik*

**Bakura:** WHO'S YOUR DADDY NOW, BITCH?

**Marik:** Just leave me alone.

**Shantih:** New tactic! Reviewers will now get a hug from Ryou, once he's stopped vomiting of course. Suggestions are welcomed! Also, I just put up a oneshot, it's called **"Why Christmas Isn't Bakura's Thing"** if you want to read it.

**Bakura:** No, don't read it. It has confidential information about me that I _didn't even remotely consent to_. *glares*

**Marik:** You're new to this whole thing aren't you? No aspect of your life is sacred on fanfiction dot net.

**Shantih:** That's all for now folks! Until next chapter!


	6. Not For Vegetarians

Sorry this chapter took so darn long! I just moved back to college and haven't had much opportunity to work on my writing – plus I've had all sorts of issues hooking up to the internet. Ugh. Anyway, this is sort of a weird, in-betweeny, filler-inny chapter. Hope you like it alright! Anyway, I've kind of gotten inspired to maybe do a story about Bakura and Marik going to college and being roommates (not sure what their majors would be yet though) lol…

NulTide: OMG thanks so much! I think you're the first person to add me to author alerts! I feel so special…and I'm really glad you liked it! I may or may not be collaborating on that new story, I have the first chapter done but I'm not sure where it's going after that…

CommandoGirl: hahaha, I actually tried to base them off my neighbors. I don't think there are such things as normal suburbanites, lol…that's why I live in the city now. At least here nobody tries to be normal. Thanks so much for reviewing! I'm glad you like it!

ConsumedByLove: Thanks for the suggestion!!! I have put the plan into motion as you will below…mwahaha…I love silver hair too, it's the only thing I like about inuyasha =P I'm so happy you don't think it's random or ooc! I'm deathly afraid of being ooc because I hate when that happens…it just ruins the story…=P So sad you're not continuing tw24he…=(

Haruka-kinns: Thank you! Yeah, the only reason he's getting sympathetic is because he enjoys tormenting Yami and if Yami's apathetic it ruins his fun =P He's such a bastard!

Ltkk022: Ahahaa! Shantihpillows! w00t. It remains to be seen whether he is a voluntary bondage slave, lol. Thank youu for reviewing! *glomps*

Hiddencry: lol, thank you! I was a little insecure about that chapter (this chapter too, oh well) but it makes me so happy when people like it! 3

Soune: Sorry I haven't updated for a while! I'll try to get better about it =) I love Bakura and Yami too…yay I'm happy it made you laugh! I laugh out loud a LOT (reading fanfics and in real life) but for some reason I'm never sure if my own stuff is funny. Thanks SO much! 3

~~Ryou hugs everybody~~

**Bakura:** Stop being such a hug slut. We did used to share the same body, remember.

**Ryou:** What's wrong with hugs? They brighten up your day! And you don't get any diseases from them. Just mind your own business, none of the fangirls want hugs from _you_.

**Shantih:** No, they probably want something else.

**Bakura:** Like what?

**Shantih:** I'm not saying.

**Bakura:** GOD DAMN IT TELL ME

ANYWAY! WARNING: If you are a sensitive vegetarian, or just squeamish in general, don't read this chapter!

Ω

_Yugi? Speak to me…_

_Yami!_ He sounded concerned, but relieved. _Where on earth have you been? I found this note in the kitchen, I can't make heads or tails of it though, you really need to work on your handwriting…_

_Yugi, listen to me. _

…_Yes?_

_I love you. I just wanted you to know that._

_...I'm not really sure how I feel about that. You know I'm not ready for a relationship…_

_Not like that, you dolt. I meant as a friend._

_Oh, so what's wrong with me? I'm not skinny enough for you, right? Mr. I-ogle-rail-thin-British-exchange-students-even-though-I-_

_Oh my god. Forget I said anything._

_Where are you, anyway?_

_Don't worry about me. We'll meet again someday._

_What? Yami, tell me what's going on. _

_I wish you a beautiful life, Yugi…_

_Yami? Yami? God damn it, stop being so purposefully vague, it's really -_

I severed our mind-link. I had to. The last thing I wanted was for Yugi to get some half-assed notion in his head to come try and rescue me, which I knew would be the first thing he'd do if he discovered what was going on. It was sad, really. I'd hoped our time together would be a bit longer. However, fate had clearly stepped in, in the form of a lunatic Tomb Robber, and I knew it was pointless to postpone the inevitable. All I could do was go along for the ride, for as long as it would endure.

On that point, I noted somewhat cheerfully that the fuel in the tank was running out. That was one good thing about these gigantic '80's cars; their gas mileage was total crap.

We'd slowed down and were driving slightly more carefully, but the only reason for that was that Bakura had decided he was hungry and was busy scanning the sidewalk for an establishment that looked promising. In other words, he was looking for someplace that looked like it would serve undercooked flesh.

"Aha!" he cried, spotting what looked like a bar. I closed my eyes as he quickly wheeled to the right, pulling over in the general direction of the curb. There was a crash, a heavy thud, and a clang as we hit something which toppled over. Bakura put the Lincoln in park and opened the door, not bothering to take the keys out of the ignition.

"You can't park like that!" I told him. The entire back half of the car was sticking out into the traffic lane, as it was almost perpendicular to the curb. People were already honking at us, as they had to edge around in order to pass. "It's a violation, the police will come and arrest you if you leave it like that. _Especially _since you don't have a license plate."

"Oh spare me," he dismissively. "You seem to forget, Pharaoh, that if anyone tries anything, we can always send them to the Shadow Realm."

"_You _can always send them to the Shadow Realm. I'd like to avoid eternal damnation, if you don't mind."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Bakura tried to think of a witty comeback. And failed miserably. He could learn a thing or two from Seto Kaiba. He just got out of the car leaving me tied up, and started to walk towards the bar.

Half way there he turned back.

"Well, Pharaoh, what if it turns out you go to eternal damnation for _not_ sending people to the Shadow Realm? _Then_ you're screwed."

I refused to dignify that with a response.

"Ah, see, you didn't think of that, did you," he observed loftily, and disappeared inside, ignoring weird stares from sidewalk passers-by. I heaved a sigh. It was only then that I remembered to look over to the right side of the car to see what we'd managed to knock over, and realized it was a motorcycle.

More specifically, it was a Yamaha – a drop-dead gorgeous one too, and even though it was a few years old, it was in perfect (or better than perfect) condition. It looked shiny and well-loved, as if the person who owned it gave it a full-body wax every day and then read it bedtime stories. I wasn't even a motorcycle person, and I found myself ogling the thing. Its chrome detailing gleamed alluringly in the sunlight. If it was a person, I decided, it would be a really hot person. Unfortunately, it had taken a nasty fall sideways onto the curb, and I wouldn't be surprised if there were quite a few scratches on the other side. Nothing that would impair the functioning, but it would definitely be enough to piss somebody off pretty bad. _Great,_ I sighed to myself, _the last thing we need right now is some huge, fat, crazy, meth-addled gang biker flipping out on us. Please, Bakura, hurry back so we can get the hell out of here…_

"What the ever-loving _fuck_?!" I heard a shrill voice scream. I looked up quickly and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

The kid who had just come out of the bar was neither huge, fat, nor a gang biker. I really couldn't say whether he was meth-addled or not from a distance, but from extensive personal experience I did know that he happened to be batshit crazy enough to compensate for all the other delightful qualities he lacked.

I was still tied up, so I couldn't run anywhere. All I could do was whimper softly and try my best to become invisible.

Ω

BAKURA'S POV

I have five thousand years of experience not being seen unless I _want _to be seen, which came in handy in this particular scenario. I walked into the bar – a dim, low ceilinged room - and slipped immediately into the shadows by the door, so that I would be able to observe the situation away from prying eyes. Hopefully good eats would be had.

There were a couple of winos at the bar. It wasn't much past one in the afternoon, but judging from their behavior, they were both completely sloshed already – one was leaning on the other, who was simultaneously crying and trying to tell him about last night's ball game. It appeared their team had lost. Pitiful, really. _No food there,_ I thought resentfully. Unless, like Pegasus, you considered alcohol to be food. Which it's not. I slipped up to the side of the bar next to them without them noticing me, and extracted $65 from the bigger one's wallet. This paper money mortals have these days makes absolutely no sense to me, since it has no actual value. However, I have found it comes in handy when you want people to do things for you, so I make a habit of helping myself to it when it's convenient.

There were two older, somewhat dumpy women sitting in a booth on the other side of the room. They were mind-bogglingly out of place, and their clothes alone were enough to make your eyes hurt. One had a large, frilly pink hat on, and the other was wearing all purple with a feather boa. One was telling the other about her poodle that had had to go to the vet. They had both just ordered salads. Goddamn women and their salads. I crossed them off my list of prospects.

Aha! What was this? A young man around twenty had just waltzed into the place and sat down at the bar. With any luck he would order something good. He looked like a total fruitcake though, he was wearing some kind of red vest and had a dice hanging from his ear. Fruitcakes usually don't know how to order a good meal. I should know, I get to live with one. I approached him stealthily.

"What do you want?" he asked, peering around at me. I froze. I'd _thought _I was being stealthy, at any rate. It appeared I'd gotten rusty. I opted to melt back into the shadows, glaring evilly in an attempt to disconcert him.

The fruitcake frowned. "Weirdo."

"Fag," I hissed back at him.

"Junkie." He turned away, ordered a beer and pulled out a paperback novel.

_What kind of freak reads at a bar?_ I was well pissed off now. I always get grumpy when I haven't eaten. I had just about decided to go back to the kitchen and terrorize the cook into making me something (it always works, especially where my own resident fruitcake is concerned) when I noticed a young, bleached-blonde woman with plenty of makeup on and a white camisole, sitting by herself at a table on the left side of the room near a window, texting rapidly. More specifically, I noticed what the waiter had just brought her.

Not making a sound, I snuck up behind her. Before she knew what was going on, I'd grabbed a fork, speared her steak, and eaten half of it in one bite. She jumped and spun around to look at me.

"What do you think you're _doing_?" she asked me, sounding both alarmed and pissed off.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm having lunch." I looked at her quizzically – not an easy thing to do, since I happened to be chewing at the same time. She seemed to be at a loss for words.

It took her a moment to respond. "But it's _mine!_ You can't just walk up and do that! Who do you think you are?" She glared at me angrily. How cute.

I couldn't really decide whether to tell her I was the catalyst of her imminent destruction, or that I was the culmination of her nightmares incarnate. It didn't really matter, though; this steak was damn good and it wasn't overcooked either. I was now probably in the best mood I'd been in all day. All I needed to do now was watch Evil Dead 2 again and I'd be walking on clouds. Or something to that effect.

"On the contrary, I can. I just did. And if you insist on further pissing me off, you will find I can be a very unpleasant person." With that, I haughtily turned to leave.

"Wait one second," the blonde woman said, with a warning tone in her voice. I did a double take. She had risen from her table, and was now standing, staring me down with her arms folded in a bitchy, don't-you-mess-with-me kind of way. Not many mortals would dare to address me with such audacity. I was intrigued. "Give. That. Back."

I looked down at the remains of the steak. Most of it was gone by now. What was left had teeth marks. "You really want this back?" I asked incredulously.

She appeared to reconsider. "Look, you ought to be ashamed of yourself," she said peevishly. "For God's sake, you can't just walk up and take stuff that doesn't belong to you."

_You'd be surprised, woman._ "Well," I said touchily, feeling a bit self-righteous, "shouldn't you be ashamed of _your_self?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Being so judgemental. You probably think you're a better person than me."

"So? I am. I don't steal people's lunches."

I waved the steak at her. "Did you ever stop to think about what you ordered? It's a carved-up piece of a dead cow. An innocent animal died, and yet you have no qualms whatsoever about eating its flesh." She just blinked at me, confused. "Have you ever seen what they do to these things? They string them up and brutally cut their throats. If they don't die quick enough, sometimes they even bash their heads in with a sledgehammer. That's_ after_ they fill them up with gene-altering drugs, you understand."

The young woman was temporarily speechless. The two winos at the bar had stopped talking and were hanging on every word I said. The two ladies in the corner had their hands over their mouths. Even the fruitcake was listening. Well, well.

"With no thought for their comfort or safety," I continued, "they are slaughtered under abominably inhumane conditions. Imagine its confusion as it was isolated in dark, cold chambers that reeked of gore. The flash of steel, the excruciating pain. Perhaps it stayed alive just long enough to watch as its own life's blood gushed out of its throat and trickled down the drain. It probably had a baby, too."

"I had no idea…" Her eyes filled with tears, and she put a hand to her mouth. Thoughtfully, I took another bite and went on, with my mouth full:

"Think of its innocent baby, left all alone, watching helpless as its mother was cruelly dragged away to her death. It's probably still alive, lost and confused, wondering where its mama could be…wondering if she'll ever come back. As we speak, it has nothing to look forward to except more misery and suffering. It will probably never know sunshine or green pastures – just a huge, soulless, dark enclosure, until the day finally comes when the butchers return to end its pathetic life. Consider that, and then tell me, would a kind God allow such a thing?"

By this time, I had finished what was left of the steak. The woman seemed to be unable to talk. Tears and mascara were streaking down her face. The entire bar had fallen silent. I turned to leave.

"Dat's messed _up_…" said one of the winos dismally.

"Hey!" the other one called after me, his voice slurred with booze. I halted. "If ya know all this morbid stuff, how come _you_ can eat the fuckin' steak? Don't you feel bad about th' animals?"

I considered it briefly.

"Well, quite honestly, I couldn't really give a shit."

And laughing, I vanished out the door.

Ω

**Ryou:** You know, frankly I don't appreciate being referred to as a fruitcake. I'm not.

**Marik:** What exactly _is _a fruitcake anyway?

**Shantih:** You know, like Pegasus.

**Yami:** Well, I can see that.

**Ryou:** _WHAT?_

**Yami:** If you were evil, 20 years older, had an awful wardrobe, and were significantly less cute…

**Bakura:** How appealing.

**Ryou:** Why "fruitcake" though? It sounds so creepy.

**Bakura:** Would you prefer creampuff?

**Ryou:** I don't understand why you have to constantly refer to me as some sort of dessert food. It's weird and I don't like it.

**Marik:** Desert food, eh? Well, how about a _date_? *winks*

**Yami:** Oh shut up.

**Bakura:** You know, Ryou, they say you are what you eat…

**Shantih:** Well, in that case _you'd_ be a dead cow.

**Yami:** *giggling uncontrollably* HE IS! IT'S HIS BEST KEPT SECRET! Shhhh…

**Marik:** Yami, I think you need to go easy on the pedophile cookies.

**Yami:** OH MY GOD AND DUKE DEVLIN IS BEER! LET'S DRINK HIM!

**Ryou:** I think you're tired. Come on, Yami…let's go upstairs and get you in bed.

**Yami:** Yes, _please_.

*Ryou turns red*

**Bakura:** Look, stay down here. I'll take him up.

**Ryou:** BUT I DON'T WANT TO STAY ALONE WITH MARIK!

**Bakura:** Shantih will be here, she'll see to it he keeps his hands to himself. You will, won't you?

**Shantih: ** Sure. I'm saving you for Marik later.

**Bakura**_**:**__ WHAT?_

**Marik:** And I don't even have to take you on a _date_ first…*cracks up laughing* Oh God, I kill myself…

**Yami:** Hey, Tomb Robber…if I close my eyes can I call you Ryou?

**Bakura:** Over my dead body.

**Shantih:** Please leave me reviews! I love getting them – let me know what you thought, suggestions, feedback, anything!

**Yami:** The reviewers will get a nice car ride alone with Yu-Gi-Oh's hottest bachelor. I really wouldn't mind trading off at this point.

**Shantih:** I don't know if they'll go for that though, Yami.

**Bakura:** Who _wouldn't_ want to go for a car ride with me?

**Marik:** Oh, I know! I'll take off my shirt, girls always like that!

**Shantih:** Perfect! Marik will strip for reviewers. Much love! Over and out.


	7. GirlieMen and Suspicious Packages

So sorry for the long wait! My workload is absolutely insane and I NEVER have free time anymore. This film class I'm taking would make grown men shudder. Ugh. Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter…I also put up a new story on here, **The Breath of an Outside God** (one chapter so far) and it's about Malik and Thief King Bakura in Ancient Egypt…if anybody wants to read it... It's SERIOUS! Mostly! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time, you guys rock my world so hard you have no idea. *huggles*

_consumedbylove:_ Haha, that speech was a lot of fun to write I must admit. I'm so happy you're getting back into **The Worst 24 Hours Ever**! I was so sad when you said you were uninspired. The last chapter was amazing, I loved it. P.S. if you're reading this, you should go read that story after this, it's flippin' brilliant o.O

_lovenyami:_ I love steak too…more than I love cows, really =( Does that make me a bad person? So happy you liked it! Thanks!

_ltkk022:_ In time…hahaha! Be careful cuddling Bakura, Ryou's probably safer…o.O Thanks for forgiving me by the way, I feel terrible when I don't update for like months. =/ And thanks for the good luck wishes! I feel like Yugi should be in this story more…I love him…p.s. gold star for good detective work, you have deduced his identity correctly! I hope you like this chapter =) I love your reviews – thanks for reviewing _The Breath of an Outside God_ too! (Akefia it is…)

_natcat5:_ *bounces happily* So happy you liked it!

_remnant of life:_ Yay thank you! And thanks so much for the story idea – I officially give you credit for helping to inspire this chapter! Let me know what you think =) Mucho love right back atcha!

_soune:_ Yay I'm glad it makes you laugh! That's what I'm here for *bows* _ Is_ he the owner?!?! READ ON!

_haruka-kinns:_ *huggles you* I LOVE your wubbly-bubbly reviews ^^ Glad you liked it! And thanks for the good wishes (I'll need them. Meh.)

_NulTide:_ Rubber? Ew…sadly believable...that's hilarious you do that even though you eat meat! So happy you liked that chapter! I was a little insecure about it, thanks a lot! =)

_CommandoGirl: _Haha! Read on…I think you'll like where this goes…

Ω

**Ryou:** Has anyone seen Bakura anywhere?

**Marik:** I think he's still on that car ride with haruka-kinns…

**Ryou:** But they've been gone for nearly three hours…it can't take _that_ long!

**Yami:** Remind me to take you for a ride one of these days. I bet we can beat his record…

**Ryou:** *sweatdrops* By the way, Shantih wanted me to warn the readers – this chapter contains copious amounts of racial profiling and somewhat less copious amounts of homophobia…

**Marik:** Ah, racial profiling. My favorite.

**Ryou:** *peers closely at list* …as well as wanton consumption of alcohol, uncopyrighted mention of the Star Wars franchise, not to mention the usual mind-boggling amounts of foul language. I think that's it. God, I hope George Lucas doesn't show up asking for royalties.

**Marik:** I could probably take him. He's old.

**Ryou:** And apparently, we are also supposed to put a disclaimer to Kazuki Takahashi at the beginning of every chapter, not just at the beginning of the story.

**Marik:** Like he's going to be reading this.

**Yami:** Oh, look out the window. I think Bakura's back.

**Ryou:** Good lord, how did his hair get like that – oh nevermind.

Ω

Bakura's not the type of person who second-guesses himself very often. I remember once I came home to find him in the remains of Yugi's kitchen, his hair singed, and the entire stovetop burnt black. I later discovered he'd been trying to make toast, but at the time he just laughed derisively and informed me cryptically that the 'plan has come to fruition', before handing me a Swiffer and disappearing out the door. Or that time last January he managed to lock himself out of the apartment he and Ryou shared all night and ended up in the hospital with pneumonia. According to him, the whole incident had been part of a ritual to summon the Dark Lord Zorc. That sort of thing. In almost all situations, he would rather die a slow, painful death than even think he might have been stupid or wrong, let alone admit it.

When all is said and done, he's a real son of a bitch, but it's just his normal functioning. If he seems fazed or upset, it's usually a sign that something is horribly, horribly wrong.

That's why a twinge of cold dread went through me when I saw his expression upon exiting the bar. He strutted through the door with a smirk on his face, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. He then caught a glimpse of the motorcycle's owner. His eyes widened and he came to a sudden halt. A look of horror came over his face for a fleeting second, and he furtively cast about for a possible escape route.

_If you leave me alone here, you baka, you're REALLY dead._

Our unwanted visitor hadn't noticed him yet. He was still bent over his fallen bike, stroking the engine and speaking to it soothingly in Coptic. He wobbled slightly; I could tell he was pretty wasted.

Bakura was edging along the wall of the bar towards the corner, watching the Egyptian tentatively. I, of course, was still trussed up. Bakura's eyes slid up to meet mine just as he was about to round the corner.

I glared at him as hard as I could. He just shrugged and smirked at me infuriatingly.

Sorry, Bakura. I don't play that shit. I was lucky he'd decided to ungag me. I took a deep breath and opened my mouth, letting him know I was about to yell and disclose his location. The Tomb Robber went white as a sheet of paper.

Just as I was about to let it out, he screamed.

"DON'T YOU DARE!"

His voice broke the silence, and Marik Ishtar looked up from where he was crouched by his bike. Bakura's hands were over his mouth. You know the way you feel when you've just left your boyfriend a dirty voice message, and it turns out you dialed your dad's number instead? That's the way Bakura looked right about now. I smiled. It was a bitter victory, but I'd finally managed to put one over on the bastard.

"Did _you_ do this?" Marik screamed, violet eyes flashing.

Bakura decided not to answer. Instead, he took off like a shot running down the street. Quick as a flash, Marik was after him, his wounded bike temporarily forgotten, along with the half-full bottle of Jack Daniel's he'd brought from the bar. I was finally alone for the first time that day. I said a silent prayer to Ra that the two lunatics would murder each other and I'd never have to see them again.

Meanwhile, several blocks down the street, Bakura had taken a running jump and managed to cling onto a fire escape. Just as he was about climb over the edge, however, Marik had grabbed onto one of his ankles and was now dangling about a foot off the ground.

"Let go, you imbecile!" Bakura tried to shake him off violently. It was useless. Marik just clung onto his leg tighter, digging his claws into Bakura.

"You're only making it worse for yourself!" Marik hissed menacingly. It was difficult to sound menacing when you were being shaken around like a rag doll, but he gave it a good try anyway. All the motion was making him nauseous. "Come down now and your death shall be swift!"

"I didn't do anything to your bike, it was like that when I found it!"

"Oh yeah?"

"_Yeah."_

"Oh well. I think I'll kill you anyway. OW!"

Bakura, to his credit, had managed to kick Marik in the face. The Egyptian would have one hell of a shiner later, I could tell already from the way he was clutching his eye.

"Fuck you!"

"I'll pass," Bakura managed to hiss back. He was now clinging onto the iron railing by one hand, and he knew his arm was close to giving way. Suddenly, down below the fire escape, he spotted a young man who had stopped on the sidewalk and was looking up at them curiously. The man had blonde hair and was wearing army fatigues. Bakura thought fast.

"Quick, help!" he shouted. "It's an Arab terrorist, he's trying to plant a bomb on me!"

"…say what?" Marik looked beyond bewildered, if that was possible.

"He's gonna blow up the embassy if someone doesn't stop him!" Bakura yelled frantically. "I think he's got a suspicious package around here somewhere too!"

"I'll tell you a thing or two about my 'suspicious package', you headcase," Marik growled, but was cut short by a certain patriotic American.

"My god, a real live terrorist! Finally!" said the young man, sounding exhilarated. "Don't worry, I'll save you! In America!" He advanced on Marik, but even drunk, the Egyptian was too fast for him and clocked him one before the man knew what was happening. He staggered backwards, both hands over his bloody nose.

"Hurry!" Bakura yelled. Oh, he was enjoying himself, I could tell. "He's absolutely nuts for Allah!"

"Nuts for _huh_?"

"Stop him before he gets to an airport!"

"You asshole!" bellowed the blonde man. "Nobody does that to an American!"

"Kiss my North African ass!" Marik sneered.

Keith snapped. He grabbed Marik around the middle and twisted his arm back, hauling him off Bakura and managing to wrestle him to the ground. The smaller man kept rolling away, and Keith was having a hard time pinning him down so he could punch him. Bakura took the opportunity to leap down neatly from the fire escape and drew closer, surveying the scene with amusement for a few moments.

"Stop squirming and hold still, you un-American bastard!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I have dual citizenship, you asshole!" Marik wasn't giving up without a good fight.

"I didn't understand a word you just said! Try speaking American!"

""American"? That's not even a-"

Bakura interrupted. "Sorry, Bandit Keith, I forgot to mention something."

"What is it?" demanded the blonde man, his attention still on Marik.

"Not only is he a terrorist, he's also a homosexual."

Dead silence. Marik finally managed to wriggle away; Bandit Keith was still staring, stunned, at Bakura. His blue eyes were wide with dread.

"…in America?" he finally whispered, beaten.

"In America," Bakura answered, to his credit managing to sound very sympathetic.

"But…but _I touched him_," cried Bandit Keith suddenly, staring down at his own hands with horror. "_I touched a girlie-man!" _He began to rub his hands on his jeans frantically.

"I _know_," said Bakura, satisfied. "You probably already have AIDS at this point. Want me to save you some pain and suffering?"

"Wha-" was all Bandit Keith was able to get out before he'd been banished to the Shadow Realm. A bandana with the American flag on it fluttered to the sidewalk, on the spot where he had been standing not a second before.

"That was pretty spiffy." Marik had sidled up next to Bakura, looking impressed, if a bit dizzy.

"Thank you."

"I'm still going to destroy you, though."

"That's nice."

Bakura wheeled around suddenly and whipped out his Millennium Ring. He'd managed to catch Marik off guard, but the shorter Egyptian countered with his own Millennium Rod. With a faint hum, the Ring began to emit an ice-blue laser beam; the Rod's laser beam was lavender. The two columns of light met between the two Egyptians and clashed, battling each other to see which was stronger.

Bakura and Marik concentrated with all their might, putting tremendous mental powers and ancient mysteries to work at defeating each other. However, after five minutes, they were still getting nowhere.

"Mommy, mommy," yelled a grade-schooler from the other side of the street, pointing at Bakura, "it's Count Dooku! Except his lightsaber looks stupid."

"All right," Bakura snarled. "This obviously isn't working."

Marik whacked the side of his Millennium Rod a few times. It didn't help. "Fine then. Let's settle this like real men."

"And what would that involve, pray tell?" The two spirits shut off the laser beams. Bakura's Ring went back inside his shirt.

Marik hiccupped and let out a cackle. "I challenge you to a-"

Bakura interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "I left my deck at home. We'll have to do something else."

"Really?" Marik slumped, disappointed. "What else is there to do?"

"Let's have a stabbing contest!" Bakura looked hopeful.

"You've had more practice; it's an unfair advantage."

"Sending-people-to-the-Shadow-Realm-contest?"

"You have an unfair advantage."

"How about a doing-your-mom contest?"

"You have an unfair advant-HEY!"

"You're welcome." Bakura chuckled to himself and lazily lit up another cigarette.

Marik sighed. He didn't really want to get into another fight with Bakura – a tomb robber with lightning-quick reflexes was not the best opponent when you had half a bottle of whiskey in you. Trying to think of something he was _better_ at doing while drunk, he cast about vaguely – and his eyes landed on his fallen bike, just visible from several blocks away. Despite his fury at the situation, he knew it wasn't really damaged. It would run just fine…

"Aha!" An idea had just come to him.

"…dare I ask?" Bakura had picked up Keith's mandana from the sidewalk and was now experimenting with trying it on. It made his hair spike up even more, if that was possible. He turned and examined his reflection in a glass window, looking pleased.

"Take that off, it looks ridiculous."

"If by ridiculous you mean utterly badass. Please finish what you were saying."

Marik hiccupped again. "I challenge you to a race!"

Bakura looked up, interested. "Go on."

"Whoever makes it to Route 66 first wins. If you emerge victorious I shall let you go without further incident."

"And if you win I pay for motorcycle repairs. Sounds fair enough."

Marik gave a sinister laugh. "Not only that! You shall also set me up with Ryou. In a location with ready access to alcohol," he added as an afterthought.

Bakura's eyes narrowed. "Absolutely not."

"No deal, then."

Boy, if looks could kill, Marik would be six feet under right about now. The two were now standing nose to nose, glaring daggers at each other. Suddenly, a disturbing smile found its way to Bakura's face. "Fine, tomb keeper. But!" He held up a finger. "If I win, you have to do whatever I say for an entire week."

Suddenly, Marik seemed uncertain. He took a step or two backwards. Silently I cheered. The ill-conceived race would be no more; I might actually stand a chance to survive. Then – defying all apparent logic, Marik appeared to reconsider.

"Sure!" He extended a hand to Bakura. "What am I thinking, you're driving a 1983 Town Car. There's no way you'll win." He mock bowed to Bakura, stumbled, almost fell over and caught himself in the nick of time. Bakura raised an eyebrow.

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, _darling_," he hissed at the Egyptian.

I swore to myself loudly as I saw them walking back to the car. There was no hope; Marik would win on that souped-up Yamaha, he would steal my sweet Ryou, and given Bakura's motor skills, the entire event would probably end in bloody death anyway. I wished to God I'd never gotten out of bed that day.

"What were you thinking?" I screamed out the window as they drew near. "You _want_ your hikari to be sodomized by an unbalanced megalomaniac with gender issues?"

"Whoa, whoa," said Bakura, holding up his hands. "Don't be so hard on yourself, nobody's perfect."

I turned red. "I was talking about _MARIK_, you asshole!"

Bakura just smirked. Marik popped up beside him, holding the Jack Daniels. "Who has gender issues?" he inquired chirpily.

"There's another thing! You can't have this race," I boomed authoritatively. "It's not fair game, because Marik's probably got alcohol poisoning at this point and Bakura's stone cold sober."

The two looked at each other and shrugged.

"I suppose you're right," sighed Bakura, reasonably enough.

Thank god, he wasn't completely insane. He saw the sense in my argument; the odds were skewed and any victory would be compromised. We would part ways amicably, and go home, and everything would be just peachy…

Except that wasn't what happened.

What happened was that Bakura took the remaining Jack Daniels from Marik and drained it in a single draught.

A small part of my soul ran screaming into the night.

Ω

**Marik:** You're making me look like a total lush. I don't appreciate that.

**Shantih:** You may as well face up to reality.

**Marik:** Look, I can quit anytime I want to, I just –

**Bakura:** -don't want to. Yes, yes, we know.

**Ryou:** Speaking of which, where on earth did you develop such a high tolerance? I _never_ drink!

**Yami:** Oh, you don't want to know what he was doing back in Ancient Egypt.

**Bakura:** Right, I was the degenerate, whereas the_ Pharaoh_ here-

**Yami:** We're not talking about me. Do you know, one time he –

**Bakura:** Let's end the discussion here.

**Marik:** Come on, I want to hear!

**Bakura:** Oh, shut up, you. Aren't you supposed to be stripping for the reviewers or something?

**Marik:** Oh right. *takes off shirt*

**Bakura:** It must be nice not to have any modesty.

**Yami:** Okay, okay, let's break it up.

**Shantih:** Please review this chapter and let me know what you thought! I just love reviews!

**Marik:** Yes, and if you review I'll take off my pants too.

**Shantih:** Er…that won't be necessary. How about a stroll in the park with Ryou?

**Ryou:** Strolls are my favorite! Happy Halloween everybody!

**Bakura:** May serial killers hide razor blades in all your candy.

**Ryou:** *cough* And have a lovely evening!


End file.
